


Always Warm

by capitainpistol



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, F/M, Introspection, Pining, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 18:17:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20277691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitainpistol/pseuds/capitainpistol
Summary: Jon encountersJaime in 8x04.





	Always Warm

"Nevermind what _they_ would think. What would the Lady Catelyn make of it?"

Jon stopped at the name. Knew who spoke it. The joyful malice and strange understanding. Even drunk. He had not walked away from Jaime Lannister eight years ago when they first met. Jon turned to Lannister now.

Jaime smiled at him from his piece of earth, sitting with his back and head against beaten stone. His stump over a pile of rubble stacked high for kindling later and the other clutching a wineskin. The one from his great war horse.

Jon stared Lannister down and instead saw the cold bloodless corpse of Ser Jorah. Dany's lips trembling as she kissed him for the last time. Sansa was right. The monsters always live. And this monster was talking of Lady Stark? 

_And Sansa... _Jon nearly bit his tongue.

"No one is going to tell you. It's… well," Jaime chuckled darkly. "_Warm_. Sounds silly, I know. But we're allowed that tonight. Do you feel that with the dragon girl? What does she have down there? She does keep going on about being their mother."

Jon should have knocked his pretty white teeth out, but he was startled silent, and a little drunk himself.

Lady Stark was long dead. Jon owed nothing to her shade. Yet he was compelled to listen. 

Lannister obliged.

"Sansa is too much like her mother. And you too much like dear old dead Ned. I doubt either of you dares. Then again. Ned and Lady Catelyn made something of it, didn't they? And I heard about your thing for redheads. Taken prisoner. Or you took her. Doesn't matter. I understand. I prefer blondes."

Jon's face flushed against his will, more furious than shamed. Sansa was not… he did not. "I would never. Sansa is my sister."

Jaime let out a soft laugh to tell him what he thought of that. "She will rule Winterfell. She will do as she pleases." He breathed deeply, head coming forward as if his bones were ahead of his thoughts. His eyes unblinking. He was far away. "Now that the Targaryens are back, you can marry..."

Jon's eyes shot to the broken tower where Jaime had pushed Bran. _To protect Cersei and their secret. To protect their bastards_. Somehow the broken tower had survived all of it too. The Lannisters, the fire, the sackings, the lords, the army of dead men. Some things don't go down so easily. Some men. 

It was Sansa who saved Ser Jaime, because of her shield Brienne. Jaime had followed her north, fought with her, drank with her, laughed with her. Now he was thinking of his sister.

"You're drunk, Lannister."

"Not drunk enough."

Jon watched Lannister rise with too much grace for a drunken fool. He tried for more wine, tipping the skin high over his mouth, squeezing with his one hand. Empry. He hugged himself and huffed snow off his beard.

"It's bloody cold," Jaime Lannister grumbled.

Jon did not think so. It wasn't cold at all. 

The Kingslayer stole a flagon from an equally drunken survivor of the Long Night after walking away from Jon. Recognizing Lannister, the drunkard scoffed, spat and went on. Jaime paid it half a glance and chose to reenter the heated halls of Wintetfell, heading up the steps instead of back to the feast, drinking some more. Jon followed more warily, up to quarters. And he thought of his sister before forcing himself the other way.


End file.
